Category Archives: learning

Born thus far

14 Saturday May 2016

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An open chair awaits you.

Clearing it of a tumbling-height stack

of NOs 

took some doing.

Approximately four decades worth.

And now that the rich, carved wood and velvet

of that high-backed chair holds nothing of mine,

there’s space for you at the table.

Admittedly, food hasn’t been cooked…

Uhm tea, however,

I’m ready to commit to.

Candle, flame and flowers adorn 

ridged lengths of milled tree

where our cups may sit.

Breath hasn’t yet dropped to belly-

waiting on your arrival out here in the valley

has caught it between Yes and Oh shit.

A place here, with me,

at a royal oak table welcoming us both

is the stretch of generosity and strength

born thus far.

Wake up!

09 Monday May 2016

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the first memory,
a fear of ghosts,
might choke you in your sleep.
wake up.
one step forward with a little foot
and another,
and another with your foot, not so small-
recall your body
to pierce darkness inhabited
by the terrifying,
and purposely forgotten.
wake up!
repossess what’s yours, kid.
throw your little arms out into night’s gullet,
rid the rotting presence rising
from beyond the grave.
we’ll approach together.
your journey neither begins
nor ends
trembling in a spindle bed
below third floor timbers,
its vacancy above met
by broad staircase
channeling
down
what no one else will face.

Love’s no

03 Tuesday May 2016

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Love’s no merry-go-round,

no sign up for the day and walk away thing,

no remembrance on Tuesday and a forgetting the other 6;

Love’s no yes-dear, whatever you say dear.

Love’s a wild one

whose hair, let alone heart will not

be tamed.

Because she expects the best of you, the most of you,

the oh you don’t feel like it -ha!- that’s funny of you.

Drag yourself to the ledge and peer over.

The view is not for the faint of heart.

Wishing yourself there is a waste of the work

your cells do without stop.

Come forward, rise up,

no other task is worthy of you.

I bow

21 Thursday Apr 2016

Posted by in beauty, becoming, change, honoring, learning, loving, movement, nature, poems, poetry, release, strength, the road

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Molting is awkward.
Ugly.
And completely amazing.

When stumbling in awkwardness, I am being asked to understand.
I bow to the learning.
When hiding from my own ugliness, I am being called to love what has been unacceptable.
I bow to Beauty by deepening her definition.

As feathers drop, the wind takes them.
In this lightness,
change.
In this change,
potency.

Mosaic garden

19 Tuesday Apr 2016

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The most dangerous words

she spoke-

“…but he has a really good heart”-

a knife

cutting her own heart out

in sacrifice to his.

A ritual, repeated,

a trance-beat of the drum

thrum pum,

only not for something holy, as imagined,

but for destruction.

The cold knife now shattered-

dropped gleefully from great height-

is planted in pieces in the mosaic garden.

Among lush green and fiery blooms,

metal glints in sun’s eye

as earthly reminder.

So it begins

03 Sunday Apr 2016

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So it begins

with

but They but They

and the story pretzels and snarls

morphs into a thorny thicket

of

Yes but.

So it begins.

Reaching in with pruners and magnifying glass,

a madness of 

I will get clear!

muscles work, tire,

eyes pierce, squint, wrinkle-

strength and a certain Sight grow.

One silent morning arrives

with a way through,

not simply a way through,

a path clear- as intended-

and They

are long gone.

Suddenly, dust still in suspension,

the same pain jolts its head through packed earth

and there’s no

But They

anymore.

Only you.

And so it begins…

The grain mill

27 Sunday Mar 2016

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Stretches

(or pockets,

or loop-de-loops)

of time

(meaningless time)

in transition

with sensations of being ground

in the grain mill,

where would we be without them?

In a blistering wind

anger rises and hands us the energy

to do away 

with a trail of uselessness hitching

to our backsides.

(Why were we dragging that marriage/house/walrus again?)

Without halting in mad winds

who jostle our brains and

send hairs flying

we’d not have noticed the 872 pounds

of shit

attached to our spines

which

we can now let go of.

Hallelujah for stopping

to strike the match of compassionate flame

and throwing it on

a tinderbox of ancient nonsense.